


Knot My First Time

by KyloTrashForever



Series: ABOhHoHo [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Ben Solo, Awkward Boners, F/M, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Gingerrose - Freeform, High School, I haven't decided if there will be oral sex but I feel like there will be because it's ben solo, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Rey smells like honeysuckle and Ben wants to suckle her honey, Scenting, Sex Education, Virgin Ben Solo, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), gratuitous mentions of pan's labyrinth, have you guys seen that?, rey is a lot better at flirting than Ben, you should
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “Who can tell me the purpose of knotting?”Holy fuck, are you kidding.His face is going to catch on fire.The teacher still scans the room, looking for a victim of her mortifying question until her eyes finally settle somewhere behind Ben. “Ah, yes. Ms. Johnson?”“Originally, to ensure conception.”Ben sneaks a glance behind him, finding her every bit as distracting as he always does.Rey Johnson.The girl who moved here just three months ago. The girl who seems to excel at everything she does. The girl he can’t get off his mind.The girl he’s heard so much about.In which Ben’s Alpha instincts have always been there, and now they’re awake.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: ABOhHoHo [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539175
Comments: 817
Kudos: 2483
Collections: Rey/Ben Solo





	1. A Lot of Trouble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JenfysNest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenfysNest/gifts).



> HELLO. It is NOT Jenfysnest's birthday yet, but it IS soon, and I am an impatient woman. My plan is to post one of these every two days to have the final chapter posted ON her birthday which is the 16th. 💕
> 
> To Jen: who is a gross, wonderful, loving, talk-me-off-the-awkward-ledge-as-many-times-as-she-needs-to, honest-to-god angel.
> 
> Happiest of happy birthday(week)s, my gross sister, I love youuuuuu. ❤️  
> 

“Now, those of you who have already experienced your first rut or heat know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Ben feels the tips of his ears grow hot, knowing his face is probably beet-red. He tries to sneak a surreptitious glance around, finding the same expression on several of his classmates faces. The teacher turns back to the board, writing out some symptoms of one’s heat or rut, and Ben wants to die a little.

He hates that this is  _ mandatory.  _ Can’t he just use Google? Is Sex Ed really necessary? He ducks his head to his chest as he tries to hide his blush. He knows the likelihood that he is the  _ only _ eighteen-year-old virgin Alpha in his senior class is (hopefully) unlikely, but it feels that way sometimes. 

All his friends seem to have already experienced, well,  _ whatever _ there is to experience, and it is almost painful having to pretend he knows what the fuck they’re talking about. 

“Who can tell me the purpose of knotting?”

_ Holy fuck, are you kidding. _

His face is going to catch on fire.

“I’ll tell you its purpose,” Hux snickers from somewhere behind him. This is promptly followed by a sharp  _ ouch _ —and Ben assumes his girlfriend, Rose, has more than likely given him the elbow to the ribs he deserves.

The teacher still scans the room, looking for a victim of her mortifying question until her eyes finally settle somewhere behind Ben. “Ah, yes. Ms. Johnson?”

“Originally, to ensure conception.”

It takes everything he has not to turn around and look at her. The teacher praises her answer, smiling before turning back to the blackboard. Ben  _ does  _ sneak a glance behind him then, finding her every bit as distracting as he always does.

Rey Johnson. 

The girl who moved here just three months ago. The girl who seems to excel at everything she does. The girl he can’t get off his mind. 

The girl he’s heard so much about.

She’s lived in three countries, and she’s only eighteen. She wants to be an engineer. She likes foreign films. She looks fucking  _ incredible _ in red.

Okay, no one actually  _ told  _ him that— but they didn't need to. He learned that on her second day here.

God, and the way she  _ smells.  _

He’s certain it’s creepy, the way he thinks about it. But it’s something like honeysuckle and sunshine, and sometimes he cranes his neck when he passes her in the hallway just to get a better whiff of it. 

Okay, yes. Definitely creepy, but he can’t help it.

He thinks about her a lot more than he probably should, but he can’t seem to help that either. She’s just so damn  _ pretty.  _

There is more conversation he desperately tries to avoid being made a part of, something about scenting that he should probably pay more attention to. Maybe it would tell him why he can’t get  _ hers _ out of his head, not to mention his nostrils.

He’s grateful for the trilling of the bell when it comes, breathing out a sigh of relief as he reaches below the station to grab for his bag. He hops off the stool with every intention of high-tailing it out of there, caught just before he can reach the door.

He turns his head in the direction of his name being called, raising an eyebrow in Hux’s direction who looks expectant. “You coming to lunch?”

“Oh.” Ben purses his lips. “I was going to spend it in the library. Get a headstart on the History assignment.”

Hux blows out a breath, an airy laugh on the exhale. “Nerd out later. Come to lunch.”

Ben rolls his eyes. Some days he isn’t sure how he and Hux have been friends for so long. He suspects vicinity and parental bonding has something to do with it. “Why?”

“No real reason,“ Hux grins. “Just wanted to see your pretty face.”

Ben frowns, but shrugs all the same. “Fine. I’ll do my outlining there.”

“Of course you will.”

Hux slings an arm around Rose’s shoulders, leading her out of the room as he whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle. Ben has known Hux long enough to know he’s up to something, but in that same vein he knows that not coming will just result in Hux bothering him incessantly, and it’s just easier, really. 

Besides, what’s the harm?

* * *

A lot, as it turns out. There’s a  _ lot _ of harm. At least for Ben. He doesn’t think anyone else at this table is having difficulty sitting still at the round cafeteria table just because a lovely creature he has never even been able to bring himself to talk to sits across from him.

She’s laughing at something Rose is saying, but Ben is fixated on the way her jaw moves when she talks. It’s like everything about her is delicate in some way, as if he might break her if he was  _ actually _ allowed to touch her. There is nothing delicate about Ben, after all. 

He catches Hux’s cheerful expression every so often from across the table, and he knows that this is the reason he’d been so keen on Ben’s attendance here. Assumes that Hux fancies himself  _ helping  _ Ben. He’s sort of wishing he’d never mentioned to the ginger bastard that he liked Rey. Now it’s almost certain that Rose knows, the same Rose that has become Rey’s closest friend since she moved here—and how long will it be before either of them open their mouths?

Ben tries  _ very _ hard to keep his focus on his notes.

It isn’t until he hears the soft lilt of her voice that is flavored with the (yes, this too) delicate accent that makes her words somehow just  _ that _ much sweeter, directed right at him, does he finally look back up. 

“What do you think, Ben?”

Ben blinks twice, still not quite sure she’s speaking to him. Has she ever spoken to him before? For a moment he tries to recall a single instance in which she’s ever spoken even in his  _ direction. _ He can’t think of a single one, but then again, the rapid beating of his heart could possibly be doing something to the blood flow to his brain. He isn’t sure. 

“What?”

Rey smiles, actually  _ smiles. _ Ben knows she has never done  _ that _ to him before. “ _ They’re _ saying”—she gestures her heads towards Hux and Rose—“that you wouldn’t want to go.”

He really wishes that he was paying more attention to the conversation rather than how pink her mouth is. It’s still distracting him even now, if he’s being honest. “Go?”

“To _The_ _Regalia._ After school.”

Ben’s brow furrows. “The old theater?”

“They’re showing  _ Pan’s Labyrinth _ there today,” she tells him. “Hux here”—she hitches her thumb playfully in his direction—“wants to see the new Fast and the Furious. Be my tiebreaker?”

Ben hopes he isn’t gaping. “You want me to come?”

“You don’t want to?”

“No, _no,_ I—” He presses his lips together as he swallows. “Sounds fun. Going. To _The_ _Regalia._ I hate blockbusters.”

Rey beams back at him for a moment before she casts her now-smug expression back to Hux. “So there.”

Rose scoffs as she reaches for a fry from her plate. “Why did no one ask  _ me?” _

“Because you would have sided with Hux,” Rey laughs. 

“I might not have.”

Hux pouts. “You wouldn’t have?”

“Well,” Rose grins, dipping her head to let it rest against his shoulder. “Okay. Maybe I would have.”

Rey shakes her head, turning it to catch Ben’s eye and mouth  _ thank you _ with a small smile. Ben can only nod dumbly, still shocked that she knows his name, that she just asked him to  _ go  _ somewhere with her. Well, with  _ them _ , but his brain is having difficulty differentiating. 

He lets his eyes flick up to look at her once more, something itching at his skin at the thought of spending time with her outside of school. Hell, spending time with her at  _ all _ really—and Ben breathes in deep to calm the sudden pounding of his heart, catching a whiff of something sweet like honeysuckle tickling at his senses, only worsening the tension that seems to plague every muscle in his body now. 

His fists clench and unclench under the table, and Rey’s gaze flits over to catch his as one corner of her mouth quirks in a grin before she returns her attention to Rose who is recounting the time Mr. San Tekka nearly went into rut in the middle of AP Chemistry because of a bad batch of experimental blockers for senior citizens.

Something he strangely cannot seem to pay attention to.

Her scent creeps into his nostrils to trickle down the back of his throat, and Ben feels his nostrils flare as he realizes what he’s just agreed to. That he’ll most likely be in close proximity to this—to her voice and her eyes and her  _ scent— _ and suddenly he feels a little differently about the whole thing.

Now he’s not sure if he’s elated or terrified.

* * *

“Why are you acting so fidgety?”

Ben scowls as his eyes flick over to the concession stand where Rose and Rey are buying snacks. “I’m not.”

“I thought you would be ecstatic about this,” Hux laughs. “You’ve only been staring at her for the better part of three months.”

“Something I wish we’d never discussed,” Ben grumbles.

“Someone had to do something,” Hux snorts. “Otherwise you might have been caught in our graduation photos mooning after her like a lovesick puppy.”

“Would not.”

“You  _ do _ know you’re an Alpha, right? Did you not get  _ any  _ instincts?”

Ben notices the girls shuffling back over to where they’re waiting with snacks in hand, and he shoots Hux a look of warning that he abides, but only just. 

Rey sidles up next to him with a cheerful expression, holding a tub of popcorn nearly as big as she is and falling into step beside him behind Rose and Hux who begin to argue about Red Hots versus Mike-n-Ikes. 

“Have you ever been here?”

Ben shakes his head, chewing on the inside of his lip and only stealing a  _ slight _ glance at her. “I haven’t.”

“Really? Haven’t you lived here forever?” Ben turns his head then, giving her a curious expression, and she waves her hand in dismissal. “Hux mentioned you’ve been friends since you were kids.”

“Unfortunately,” Ben snorts. 

“He’s definitely a lot more talkative than you are,” Rey laughs. “I was surprised when he said you were friends, to be honest.” She gives him a sheepish expression. “You’re always so quiet in class.” 

_ That’s because I’m trying my best not to look like an idiot in front of you. _

Ben clears his throat. “I just don’t ever have anything to say.”

“Well,” she hums. “I’m glad you have something to say now.”

She steps ahead of him to open the door to the theater, casting a little grin over her shoulder as she ducks inside, leaving Ben shell-shocked in front of the swinging door. Is she—surely she isn’t—

Is she  _ flirting _ with him?

Ben can’t decide if that’s possible. Isn’t even sure what it would  _ look _ like—but that little smile she’d given him is imprinted onto his brain now. Making him restless. 

Ben follows after her just like the lovesick puppy he was accused of being.

He stalks down the darkened hall that curves around into the wide theater space, finding his group shuffling into a center row further up. He stills halfway up the stairs when he realizes Rose and Hux have tucked themselves away on the inside, leaving Rey on the outer seat, meaning that Ben will be sitting…

Rey waving him over is the only thing that keeps him from tucking tail and running.

He thinks this scenario might be the most terrifying of his Alpha career, save for the raging few months of hormone-induced anger that followed his presentation, and his steps are slow and heavy as he makes his way towards her to fold himself into the aged theater seat next to her.

“Thought you got lost,” she whispers. The way she leans in makes the sweetness of her scent bloom in his space, and Ben does his best not to think ridiculous things about getting lost in  _ her. _ She tips her popcorn tub towards him. “Want some?”

Her fingers brush the fluffy little kernels from the top as she asks, and he watches helplessly as she pushes them into her mouth, looking at him expectantly. He gives a quick shake of his head. “I’m okay.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs, taking another bite and settling back into her seat but keeping her head tilted near him as the opening commercials begin to play. “Have you ever seen this?”

“I haven’t,” he whispers back. “Have you?”

“Loads of times,” she answers quietly. “It’s so good.”

“What language is it?”

“Spanish,” she tells him. Her eyes cut across to him as she offers a sly grin. “Don’t worry, there are subtitles.”

Ben is about to answer with something that is probably a lot less witty than it sounds in his head when the theater darkens fully, soft music beginning to play as the sounds of heavy breathing fills the room. An intro message appears on the screen in spanish, subtitles scrolling at the bottom and talking about a time just after the Spanish Civil War. 

Rey reaches for her drink in the cup holder between them just as a little girl appears battered on the screen, her fingers brushing against his hand and sending a spark of electricity up his arm that makes him shudder.

“Sorry,” she whispers, seemingly not noticing the way his other hand grips the opposite armrest. She takes a sip from her straw before tilting her cup in his direction. “Thirsty?”

He stares at the straw for a second too long, thinking about her lips having just been there. He wonders if it tastes like her. “I’m okay,” he tells her, knowing he isn’t. Not really.

She goes back to the movie, but the difficult part of it all is that Rey is a  _ talker.  _ Every few moments she finds something new to lean over and whisper in his ear, which means every few moments Ben is wound tighter and tighter as he is assaulted by the sweetness of her that tickles his nostrils. At one point he leans forward to sneak a glance at Hux and Rose who have taken to canoodling further down, wondering how it’s possible they aren’t scenting what he is. 

It’s just so  _ enticing.  _

Ben can’t be sure how far in they are, has nearly lost track of time with the slow torture of her nearness and her scent, but there is a moment when a monster flashes on screen, one that he can’t even pay attention to because Rey’s hand is suddenly on the width of his bicep. Her fingers curl there slightly, her entire body angling so that she might whisper in his ear more thoroughly despite the growing music. 

Ben doesn’t know what she says. There are words, yes, but they’re lost to the warmth of her breath against his ear. There is honeysuckle in his nostrils, in his chest, on his  _ tongue— _ like pulling the inner stem from the flower to collect that one drop of sweetness from deep inside. 

Something some part of him  _ desperately  _ wants to repeat with the intoxicating creature beside him. 

He recognizes he’s shaking a little, notices then way the denim of his jeans has grown tighter at the front, and there’s a blooming heat inside he can’t shake. One that is nearly unfamiliar in the way it makes him want to do  _ unspeakable  _ things to her—here, right fucking  _ here.  _

He hears Rey’s breath catch a little, from the movie or the way he’s acting he isn’t sure, but then she’s leaning in again, she’s  _ touching  _ him again—fingers curling over his forearm in concern.

“Ben? Are you okay? You look—”

Her fingers are like a  _ brand,  _ and Ben can’t take it anymore. He shoots up in his chair without thinking, eyes shifting wildly as he tries to collect himself.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her roughly even as someone behind him grumbles that he get out of the way. “I don’t feel well.”

He casts one glance down at her, finding her eyes a little wider than he thinks they should be, her mouth parted as her hand reaches again for him, slowly, carefully, as if she isn’t aware she’s doing it. “Be—?”

He doesn’t allow her to touch him again. He’s down the aisle and the stairs and the hall before she has the chance, taking long, hurried strides as he puts as much distance between them as he can. Before he can do something  _ really _ stupid. Before he can do something that will ruin  _ everything. _

Like touch her too.

* * *

Ben can’t quite describe the embarrassment of having to walk to a bus stop with a semi. Can’t depict what it’s like to ride through four stops in that state while trying to hide it from the other passengers. His cock twitches every time he thinks about the brush of her fingers or the tease of her scent—which admittedly is every other second or so, keeping him in a constant half-hard state the entire way home. 

He doesn’t feel like he can breathe again until he’s inside of his house and tucked away in his bedroom a half hour later, thankful for the usual state of his empty house as he leans against his door, trying to collect himself. His cock seems to be fully aware that he’s alone now, his arousal only worsening in private until the front of his jeans are rented to maximum capacity that the denim will allow. 

_ Fuck _ .

Ben is eighteen years old and has gone through his presentation rut—he is no stranger to this, but something about it feels wrong somehow. Feels like debasing Rey in some way, knowing it’s fully because of  _ her  _ that he’s in this state to begin with. 

He presses his hand to the front of his jeans tentatively, only wanting to find a bit of relief, but it has the opposite effect—Ben hissing out a breath as heat courses through him, sweat collecting at his temples in a way he’s not felt since he first presented. 

_ Is it a rut? Is that’s what’s happening? _

He doesn’t think so, mostly. He’s still of sound mind, he’s just very,  _ very  _ worked up in a way he doesn’t think will go away unless he… takes care of it. 

Sometimes Ben hates being an Alpha, he really does. 

He flops down on his bed, shucking his jeans down around his thighs and sucking in a breath as he wraps his hand around his aching cock while tugging up his shirt to bare his stomach. There is a flash of Rey’s smile when he closes his eyes, and again he feels that guilt inside for using her this way.

He releases his cock only to shove his hand blindly into the pocket of his strewn jeans, fishing out his phone and unlocking it with shaky thumbs as he types in a shameful website he rarely (okay, maybe not  _ rarely  _ but not  _ frequently,  _ damnit) visits. 

He can’t say that Omega porn is his favorite thing in the world, he really can’t, but right now he’s just looking for a distraction. He clicks the first link that comes up, thrust mid-scene into an Alpha railing a mewling Omega who begs for  _ more— _ and Ben does his best to work with it. 

He lets his fingers curl around his heated cock, holding the little screen in one hand as he tries to get into what he’s seeing. As he strokes himself from the head of his cock down to the more sensitive flesh of his knot, he can’t help but notice just how  _ loud  _ this Omega is. He wonders if that’s just how it is during sex. 

He doesn’t think Rey would be that loud.

He thinks her sounds would be soft, needy, but soft. He imagines then just what cries for  _ more  _ might sound like in her accent, flushed and wanting beneath him—and he doesn’t even realize his eyes are closed until the Omega in the video lets out a guttural moan, snapping him out of it as he grits his teeth and shakes away the memory of her.

He focuses on this woman’s tanned skin and her long blonde hair—too straight and too processed to be anything like Rey’s. He thinks Rey’s hair would be much softer if he were to bury his fingers in it. He’s thought about letting one soft curl wind around his finger, and he knows it would smell like her—that it would be sweet,  _ just like her.  _

He bites his lip as he thinks about the way he might tug it softly, forcing her neck to arch and her back to bend, and the way she would  _ look _ underneath him— _ fuck.  _ She’s such a tiny thing, so delicate and soft, but there’s strength there too. He knows that she could take anything he gave her, that she was  _ made  _ to even, and he feels his balls drawing up tight as he works himself harder now, twisting a bit at the base of his knot in a way that makes his skin flush and his stomach contract, imagining that this might be what it would feel like to bury inside her. He wonders if she would be hot inside, if she would coat him in slick—something he’s not thought too much about leading up to this but now it’s  _ all he can think of. _

He wonders what it might taste like, what _she_ might taste like—warm and sweet and sticky on his tongue. _Rey_ wouldn’t ask him to _fuck her harder—_ not like the Omega he can still faintly hear over the sound of the rushing of blood in his ears—no. She wouldn’t have to, he thinks. As he grinds his teeth and tilts his hips up into the heated grip of his own fist, Ben thinks he wouldn’t be able to do otherwise, hardly even feels like little more than an _animal_ right now, but his mouth parts and his breath catches because it’s there, it’s _right there_ —colors flashing behind his eyes and heart pounding in his chest and his _cock_ so hard he can barely stand it, and he—

_ “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” _

He feels the warm coating of his cum as it lands on his abdomen, flooding out in a sticky pool that he tries to staunch with his fist that wraps around the head of his cock. He’s struggling to breathe through his nostrils as he comes down from the high of it, realizing that at some point he’s dropped his phone to land on his chest face down, now silent as the video apparently ended some indeterminable amount of time ago. 

Ben’s eyes creak open with effort, staring up at his ceiling in a daze as he realizes just how futile his efforts were to  _ not _ debase Rey in that way. He tried, he really did—but it seems there is only  _ one  _ Omega that he is able to devote attention to, be it with his body  _ or  _ his mind. 

He is still staring at the ceiling when he realizes he will most likely have to face her again when the weekend is over, that someone as kind as her will most likely want to  _ check  _ on his lying ass about him claiming to be  _ sick ( _ and he might be, in a sense, given what he’s just done)—and Ben has no way of knowing what he will do when that time comes. No way of knowing how he will  _ ever  _ survive being around her when mere  _ moments  _ of being close to her reduces him to  _ this.  _

Ben thinks he might be in a lot of trouble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben doesn’t know a lot about his Alpha instincts, but he is knot opposed to finding out, I’d wager.


	2. Made To Fit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad you like this fluffy horny nonsense. Just a head’s up, took some _major_ liberties with the biological properties of Alpha/Omegas in relation to actual humans but like, did you know we have what are basically scent glands? I sure didn’t. Most of the sex ed lesson I wrote here is based on real shit. Who knew? Haha. That being said... I am not a biologist. Just go with it. 
> 
> [ theriseofswolo ](https://twitter.com/theriseofswolo) drew this incredible piece of these fluffy babies, and I literally smile every time I look at it. I love it so much. LOOK AT THE WAY HE BLUSHES TO HIS ANKLES LOOK AT HER SMILE I MEAN—😭❤️  
> 

Ben has always really enjoyed going to school. 

With a mother who is constantly at her next function, her next charity event, her next whatever-it-takes-to-get-the-votes gala, and with a father who thinks coming home every two months between jobs is perfectly adequate patriarchal behavior—he sort of enjoys the company, even if it’s just Hux and Rose and the handful of other people he holds meaningless conversation with. Sometimes it’s just nice not to be alone.

But when Monday rolls around after an entire weekend of trying to get Rey’s scent out of his head, her soft whisper out of his ear—Ben thinks he might like to be anywhere but here. He has had countless conversations with himself in anticipation of seeing her, but the moment he steps onto school grounds he abandons any plans of actually _speaking_ to her in favor of avoiding her altogether. For months of trying to get closer to her, of trying to get a slight whiff of that sweetness of her—he thinks he might _actually_ be terrified to be near her again, knowing now just how tortuous being close to her actually is.

He thinks it’s a pretty shoddy plan, as far as they go; Coruscant is not a very large high school, after all, but he thinks if he can just find a way to get a handle on the restlessness she instills, if he can just figure out how to be _near_ her without losing every sense he’s ever had—he thinks he can find a way to give it another go. Again, shoddy, at best. He knows eventually he will _have_ to see her, considering her friendship with Rose and her newfound interest in being _friendly_ with him, and part of him thinks that he is just avoiding the inevitable.

And Ben, it seems, is nothing if not intuitive.

It takes him less than three hours into Monday to run into her, and it’s not even an accident, he thinks. How could it be, when he’s spent his entire free period hiding in the library? 

He smells her before he sees her, body going rigid in the little wooden chair at one of the reading tables, warmth creeping up the back of his neck and something like a weight on the back of his tongue that feels as thick and sticky as some honey that only makes him _more_ wanting of her. His nails bite into the worn wood of the table as he cranes his neck, catching her soft curls bouncing lightly as she rounds one of the stacks, brow furrowed and mouth pursed as her eyes sweep the room. 

Ben can only watch helplessly as her gaze moves along every empty table, staring at her like some sort of caught prey as it finally lands on him, her mouth turning up at the corners and her fingers curling in a little wave that he feels himself returning stupidly. She comes straight for him like a hunter, like _she_ is the Alpha here—and Ben scoots his chair deeper under the table to hide the way his traitorous cock twitches in his jeans. 

Rey plops into the chair just across from him as if they do this all the time, as if a week ago he wasn’t even sure she knew his name—and he feels his heart rate pick up several beats as he presses his legs together underneath the table, an action that proves to only worsen the growing situation there.

She is just _sitting_ there for God’s sake.

What is _wrong_ with him?

“Hey,” she greets warmly. “I’ve been looking for you.”

It’s a little hard to dissect the image of her sitting in front of him with the one he’s still pretending he didn’t touch himself to in his own head. His dick can’t seem to decipher, either. He casts a mental _et tu, brute?_ in the general direction of his lap, clearing his throat as he tries to remember how to do anything other than grunt like some sort of hormone-riddled caveman. “You have?”

“Well, yeah,” she tells him. “You left so suddenly Friday. I was worried. Hux said you were sick?”

_Only because I promised to outline his History report._

“Yeah…” Ben’s hands slide under the table to tug at his jeans as subtly as he can, looking to relieve some of the pressure. “Stomach bug. Hit me pretty suddenly.”

“That’s the worst,” she grimaces. “But you’re feeling better?”

“Loads,” he manages, trying not to fixate on the vee at her neckline. 

What is _actually_ wrong with him?

“Oh,” she sighs in relief. “I’m glad.” He cocks his head and she waves her hand in apology. “Not that you were sick, mind you, just that you’re feeling better.” Her brow knits as she chews on her bottom lip, shifting a little chair. “Although I guess a part of me is a _little_ glad you were sick.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s just that…” She fiddles with her shirt sleeve, her slim fingers tugging at the soft cotton in a way that draws his attention to the delicate line of her wrist. He knows from the brief attention he’s given to Health that there is a gland there, and he wonders for a moment if it would taste as sweet as she smells, if he were to press his tongue there. A thought that takes him by surprise. “It’s just that I was worried,” she goes on. “That I came on too strong.”

Ben’s mind does something reminiscent of a carbonated beverage being shaken up. “Too… strong?”

“You know…” Her smile is small, shy, even—but it makes something roil in his belly as his gaze locks onto her mouth. “When I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You…” He’s distracted by the way her hand unconsciously drifts to her to toy with her collar, fingers brushing against the sloped curve of her neck. “You wanted to spend time with me?”

Her smile widens as if what he’s said is incredibly amusing, tilting her head a little in a way that only elongates her throat and further distracts him. “Well, yeah? You never come to lunch, and I just thought if Hux could convince you to come that you’d—”

“ _You_ wanted to spend time with me?”

He doesn’t mean to sound like an idiot, he just can’t be sure if he’s heard her right. Surely not.

“Ben,” she laughs. “You seriously didn’t know?”

He can only shake his head dumbly.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’re really sweet.”

He thinks she might not be saying that, if she knew that he was half-hard under the table right now. She might think he’s an animal. He feels like one lately. 

“So, was that…” He presses his lips together for a moment as he tries to get the words out in a way that doesn’t make him look like a complete idiot, something he isn’t sure is possible. “Friday—was that—was it supposed to be a—”

She’s still looking at him as if he’s holding a basket of kittens. “A date?”

“Yeah,” he manages. “That.”

She leans on her elbow to prop her chin on her fist, shrugging a little. “Sort of? I don’t know. I’m not sure if it counts if you didn’t realize. Plus, you ran out on me so fast…” She frowns then, the playful gleam in her eyes dimming as something like uncertainty passes over her features. “I was actually worried maybe you just didn’t like me.”

“ _No.”_ He thinks he startles her a little with the way he half shouts it, reaching out his hands in a halting motion as he leans closer over the table. “That’s not true, I—” He notices the way her eyes have gone a little wide, notices the way her nostrils flare a bit as her chest rises and falls with just a bit more effort. He does his best to collect himself. “That is—” He clears his throat, letting his hands lower slowly to rest against the table in a calmer manner. “I… like you.”

The corners of her mouth quirk. “Oh?”

“I”—Ben swallows thickly, still half in shock that _this_ is how his morning is going—“like you a lot.”

Her smile is brilliant, just like the rest of her—and Ben feels something both winding and unwinding in his chest. She reaches across the table to brush her fingers across his knuckles, and even _this_ makes his cock jerk heavily like some sort of Pavlovian response. “Maybe we could try the whole sort-of date thing again. If we play our cards right, it might even turn into an _actual_ date.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, even now her scent dizzying him a bit even with the two feet of space between them. He has no idea how he will survive another outing with her, one that might potentially be spent with just the _two_ of them—but there is absolutely no way he’s going to let her walk away from this table thinking that he doesn’t think about her during every waking moment of the day. 

“I’d like that.”

He feels the slide of her thumb across the back of his hand, and something inside him is roaring with it. “This weekend? Saturday?”

“Where are we going?”

She gives his hand a little squeeze before she releases it to push from the table and stand. She gives him a playful smile as she circles the table, patting his shoulder to let her fingers linger there as a little shiver passes through him. He cranes his neck up to look at her from where he sits, and she gives him a little shrug with one shoulder. 

“You’ll figure it out.”

She saunters off then, and Ben can do nothing but watch her go, his skin feeling too tight in the places she’s touched him. He’s admittedly hard enough now to raise the table with one wrong hip thrust, he thinks, something that he’ll need to get a handle on if he’s going to be spending more time with her—but more than that he’s just… _warm._ In ways he’s never been before. 

His senses are alight with honeysuckle and sunshine, leaving a sweet fog of dizzying atmosphere in her wake that he wants to chase after until he can breathe it in to his heart’s content. He pulls a book from the table to place it in his lap, forcing down the demanding part of him that wants a little more of her scent as well and realizing that he will _have_ to find a way to get these all-consuming urges under control if he’s ever going to stand a chance of convincing her that he’s _not_ some beastly Alpha brute. His cock twitches against his jeans and the book above as if in protest, and Ben winces, groaning softly under his breath as he thinks about how _hard_ that will be. He lets his head drop to the table in frustration as he presses the book tighter against his lap, attempting to get it under control. 

_It can’t be any harder than_ this, _at least._

* * *

The days that follow are… difficult. _Wonderful,_ but difficult. 

For all the times he was craning to get a better look at her before, she is _everywhere_ now. She finds him at lunch, she sits by him in class, and even if this keeps Ben in a constant state of scent-induced semi-arousal, it’s… nice. Admittedly. 

He learns so much about her he didn’t know before. 

Her parents move around a lot because of their job, some business they took over from her grandfather who was apparently an absolute dick that no one actually liked. _No one was sad to see him go,_ Rey tells him truthfully. 

He learns what her favorite food is ( _rice, weirdly enough, anything with rice_ ), her favorite book ( _The Velveteen Rabbit),_ her favorite band ( _he’s not sure Taylor Swift counts but she assures him it does)—_ but mostly he just learns that he’s a little bit crazy about her. 

It does nothing to help his… predicament.

He’s touched himself more in this week than he thinks he has in his entire life, and it is still not enough to curb that ache for her that makes it hard not to touch her, when she’s near. There is no part of him that _doesn’t_ feel like an animal for having these urges, be they natural (he hopes, god help him) or not, because mostly Ben would just like to have a conversation with her that _doesn’t_ involve him daydreaming about pressing his nose to her throat, or his mouth, or… other parts of him. 

By Friday he thinks he’s nearly gotten a handle on it; he’s still wearing the tightest boxer briefs he owns in some desperate attempt to keep his eager erection at bay, but he can almost breathe her in without his eyes rolling back in his head now. Something to be celebrated for all sorts of reasons, he thinks. 

So he doesn’t think much of it, when she asks him to partner up in a project for their mandatory Sex Ed unit. (Okay, maybe he thinks about it _a little—_ it’s Sex Ed, and he’ll be sitting next to _Rey.)_ He slides onto the stool next to her, trying not to look as dumbstruck as her grin makes him feel, and this is fine, it’s _fine,_ he thinks. 

Until Mrs. Holdo announces the project.

“I’m going to give each of you a diagram and a miniature anatomic model, and I want each pair to identify the major scent glands from the model, and then fill in the diagram.”

_Oh, no._

It feels a little like all the air has been sucked out of the room. He knows logically that it isn’t the intention here to think about anyone in _specific_ during this exercise, but as the teacher passes them their little plastic doll with the sympathetic nervous system highlighted between each gland—Ben’s thinking of a very _different_ body. The one seated next to him, to be more specific. 

“Now who can tell me the difference between an apocrine and eccrine gland?”

He jolts a little at the speed with which Rey’s hand shoots up, his fist gripping the doll a little tighter than it should and his thumb rubbing inadvertently over the nondescript chest that somehow _still_ makes him think of Rey. 

“Ms. Johnson?”

“Apocrine glands are larger and secrete fluid indirectly inside the skin, while eccrine secrets directly through a duct.”

Mrs. Holdo smiles. “Correct. Apocrine glands are responsible for each Alpha and Omega’s hormonal secretions, whereas eccrine glands are what control sweat in temperature-based environments.”

Ben feels like he might be starting to sweat a little now as the sweet scent of honeysuckle tickles his nostrils.

“Apocrine glands are different for each Alpha and Omega, secreting a specific type of pheromone based on the subject’s genetic makeup that is designed to attract a mate.” Mrs. Holdo paces through the rows as she talks, checking on each pair to ensure that they’re working. “This isn’t to say there is only _one mate_ for every Alpha or Omega,” she informs them. “That’s a myth. _However,_ our biological structure is designed to recognize compatibility, and this is why some scents might seem as if a dull perfume, be it pleasant or unpleasant, while others might, well, for lack of a better word—drive you crazy.”

Ben can’t help it, flicking his eyes over to where Rey sits to catch her gaze, eyes widening when she grins sheepishly. He wonders then what he smells like to _her._ Does she feel anything like he does?”

“...although this reactive scenting is more commonly an Alpha trait,” Mrs. Holdo elaborates, shattering his daydreams. “Something that goes all the way back to when we lived in caves, I’m sure.”

She laughs a little at her own joke, but Ben isn’t laughing, distracted by the way Rey leans in close to point out a gland on his little doll that corresponds with the one on the diagram. Her finger brushes against his when she points to the smooth column of the doll’s throat, and Ben finds his gaze passing over the slim column of _hers_ as she cranes her neck to show him. 

He closes his eyes, breathing her in for just a moment, not being able to refrain from doing so.

_Mistake._

“This is one too,” Rey whispers, sliding her finger down to the bend of the little figure’s elbow. “I didn’t even know we had one there.”

Ben briefly thinks he wants to find _all_ of the scent glands—just not on the doll. 

He clears his throat. “Wrists, too.”

Rey smiles softly as she nods, checking it off on their diagram. Mrs. Holdo is still talking, every new bit of information enough to make Ben just a little more insane. 

“Now there are notable apocrine glands,” she tells them. “The throat, the wrists, the inside of the elbows—but there are others that aren’t as well recognized.”

Ben just knows this is somehow going to make him hard.

“The armpits”—okay, safe there, mostly, maybe not—“the perineum”—Ben isn’t quite sure what a perineum is, and he’s afraid he’ll want to taste Rey’s if he googles it—“and also the areolas of the nipples.”

_Don’t look at her chest. Don’t you fucking dare. Just stare at the fucking doll. It has no chest. It’s safe. Stop thinking about Rey’s nipples. Stop thinking about whether or not they taste as sweet as she smells._

Ben angles his body further under the edge of the station for… reasons. Rey makes some joke under her breath about nipples being like scented candles, and Ben thinks that maybe the universe _actually_ is out to get him. 

“Are you okay?” Her brow furrows as she leans in closer to him upon noticing his apparently-obvious distress. “You’re sweating a little.”

Ben closes his eyes. “Just my eccrine glands, I guess.”

“Nerd,” Rey laughs. “You look a little pale though.”

_Really? I feel like I should be seven shades of red right now._

“I’m fine,” he manages. 

“It’s notable to mention that the apocrine glands are inactive before presentation,” Mrs. Holdo is still saying. “They’re driven by adrenaline, so they’re more active in times of stress, fright, pain, or sexual stimulation.”

Ben closes his eyes, telling himself that the words _sexual stimulation_ are not, in fact, sexy. Trying to make his body believe that. Something less easily accomplished with the way Rey’s hand brushes against his to pry the figure away for a better look. Her wrist inadvertently slides against his as she does so, and Ben gasps in surprise at the sensation of it, something that Rey miraculously mirrors. 

She looks at him for several moments, loosely grasping the doll with wide eyes and parted mouth. It takes a handful of seconds for her lips to press together again, her face turning down towards their station as she finishes her task, but there is a slight blush to her cheeks now. Ben wonders if perhaps he is not the only one affected. 

He wonders if there’s a chance _she_ feels it too.

His skin tingles at his wrist from where she’d accidentally scented him, and he’s already anxious to get out of this room so that he can press the spot to his nose and breathe in the scent of them, knowing such a small thing will fade quickly but not daring to do it with her sitting right there. 

“But what about the mating gland? It smells good too.”

Ben doesn’t have to turn to recognize the question comes from Hux, just as he doesn’t have to turn to know that he’s grinning cheekily, and that Rose is most likely rolling her eyes.

“That’s a good point,” Mrs. Holdo concedes. “The mating gland is an exocrine gland that is linked to different facets of the sympathetic system. There are connections to other apocrine glands, as well as the salivary glands. This is why when stimulated, the scent and salivary glands can be affected in a pleasurable way.”

“I’ll say,” Hux laughs, followed by an _oomph_ as Rose does something to cause him well-earned pain.

“Now, now,” Mrs. Holdo chides. “It’s worth noting that mating gland’s connection to the salivary glands is why a bite from a potential mate is the method of instilling a mating bond. We hold the most potent of our pheromones in our salivary ducts, and the mating gland has impressionable cells that can retain the coding of a potential mate’s DNA.”

Ben really _does_ try not to turn his head to look at her, but the way she’s bent over their worksheet, hair falling loosely over her shoulder—it offers the perfect view of the smooth line of her throat, and he knows that just below the collar of her shirt there will be a similar gland there. One that would swell and redden under his attention. He briefly wonders what it would feel like against his tongue, what it would _taste_ like, what it would—

Rey peeks over at him through the curtain of her hair, and the way she’s looking at him… it makes him wonder if she knows what he’s thinking. He can feel the way he’s breathing just a little harder than normal, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from hers. She holds his gaze for a good number of seconds, her mouth finally curling into a barely-there smile that makes his chest hurt. 

“...but the bond is permanent,” Mrs. Holdo is saying. “Once a bond is forged, the cells lose their malleable properties and will retain whatever new genetic structure they’ve taken.” She pauses for effect, a moment in which he hears Hux making kissy noises that he assumes are for Rose’s benefit, but Ben isn’t looking at them. Not at all. “So be careful who you bite,” Holdo warns playfully. 

Ben swallows thickly, still looking at Rey who has all but abandoned their worksheet, feeling his mouth mirror the same curve of hers in a tiny, breathless moment that he’s already imprinting into his memory for safekeeping. She finally lets her gaze find the paper again then, still smiling softly as she fills in another blank. Ben’s voice is quiet as he reaches over her arm to point out the very last one, and she offers a soft _thank you,_ biting at her lower lip as the bell suddenly rings overhead, breaking the spell of whatever just happened. 

She straightens on her stool, smile still shy as she tucks her curls behind her ear, packing away her books as she hands the paper up and behind Ben to Holdo’s waiting hand. 

“So,” she says quietly, watching Ben put his own things away in his backpack. “We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

“Absolutely,” he breathes, eliciting a wider smile from her. 

“Where are we going?”

“It’s… a surprise.”

To him too, he thinks, since he has been wracking his brain for ideas all week only to come up with nothing. Ben sincerely doubts he’ll be getting much sleep tonight. 

“Good thing I like surprises,” she teases. 

“Yeah,” he laughs softly. “Good thing.”

“I guess… I’ll see you tomorrow then?” They both know this is the last of their classes together for the day. “Just tell me where to meet you.”

“I will.” He nods. “Definitely.”

She hops down from the stool, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and giving him one last grin as she moves past him. “See you tomorrow, Ben.”

He thinks he nods dumbly, watching her move through the rows and out of the classroom and only murmuring his own _yeah, tomorrow_ under his breath well after she’s gone. It hits him then just how unprepared for it he is, still having no idea where on Earth he can take Rey that will leave an impression _and_ not trap him in some enclosed space that will result in him hard and desperate and clouded with her scent. 

He sees Hux and Rose still laughing about something at their station as Hux does something inappropriate with his figure, and Ben marches over in a rush as both of them turn to face what is probably his panicked expression.

“I need help.”

“I’ve been saying that for years, really,” Hux deadpans.

Ben huffs. “I mean it.”

“Is it about your date with Rey?” Rose asks.

“It’s about… where I will be _taking_ Rey on my date with Rey.”

Hux grimaces. “You don’t know where you’re taking he yet?”

“I have been trying to figure that out all week. I have nothing.”

“Well, you know she loves foreign films…” Rose starts.

“ _No.”_ Ben shudders. “No theaters.”

Hux makes a triumphant sound. “What if you took her—”

“No,” Rose interjects. “He will not be taking her to the _Ripley’s Believe It or Not._ ”

“Why?” Hux makes a face. “You loved it when I took you there.”

“Of course I did,” she soothes, casting Ben a surreptitious look that says otherwise. “But trust me, not Rey’s thing.”

“Then what about—”

Rose pats her boyfriend’s arm. “How about you let me handle this one.” Hux grumbles under his breath, but Rose’s attention is on Ben now. “Come over tonight. We’ll figure it out. It’s going to be fine.” She hitches a thumb towards Hux. “I promise not to let him help.”

Ben smiles in relief. “That sounds perfect.”

“Oh, _thank you,_ Hux, for setting everything up,” Hux grumbles to no one in particular.

Ben and Rose ignore him, and Ben feels for the first time all week like this might actually go okay. That he won’t ruin it and make a fool of himself. That it will be _fine._

This newfound optimism only wavers when his friends get ahead of him, when he stealthily presses his wrist to his nostrils and breathes deep. His eyes flutter a little as he allows it to fill his senses—that sweetness that is inherently her but also something just a bit darker that he realizes must be _him._ That this is what they would be like _together._ It’s already fading with the fleeting way she touched him, and he takes another deep inhale before he forces himself to refrain if only to not look like a complete psychopath to the random passerby. 

He thinks about it for the rest of the day though. Thinks about the way it had been pleasant, the pair of them blended together. Thinks about how it had almost seemed _natural_. 

Almost like they were made to fit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> Spoiler alert, he totally did want to. 🤷🏻


	3. The Best Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE SOFTEST THING I HAVE EVER WRITTEN PROBABLY (but also just a smidge horny)
> 
> I have a lot of things to unpack because I was very blessed between chapters two and three 😭  
> My little Yeetbelina [Katie](https://twitter.com/katieitsmee) made me this adorable moodboard, and I love her. THE BUTTERFLIES. 😭  
>   
> My sweet friend [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) made me an incredible gif board that fits the chapter perfectly even without her having read it yet. 😍  
>   
> [ theriseofswolo](https://twitter.com/theriseofswolo) not only made art for last chapter's horny biology lesson, but also made an adorable piece for a portion of THIS chapter based only on a small snippet I posted to twitter and I will never deserve this, but I am so in love with all of it. I cannot stress enough how happy this made me. 😭  
> 

Ben is confident. 

Ben has a plan. 

If he tells himself this enough times, he thinks he will start to believe it. 

He keeps his hands firmly in his pockets as they walk down the sidewalk together, stealing glances at her only every other moment to ensure that he doesn’t come off as a complete creep. He listens to her talk about her life before she moved here, soaking up every detail and tucking them away in hopes to put together a whole picture of her that only threatens to make him that much more _gone_ for her. Everything sounds sweeter when she says it, words hold more weight. It’s a bit of a problem, really. 

She clasps her hands behind her back when the conversation lulls, only accentuating the stark white of her t-shirt that is rimmed red at the collars and sleeves, making her skin seem brighter, _sweeter._ “So where are we going, anyway?”

“Oh.” He looks ahead, trying not to let his gaze settle on the hem of her high-waisted denim skirt. “It’s just up here.”

“You’re being mysterious,” she teases.

“Honestly, I’m just hoping it’s okay.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

She leans forward to catch his eye, and Ben feels his cheeks heat under her soft smile and her bright eyes. “Wherever you take me I am going to like, Ben.”

He tries to swallow, a lump forming in his throat as he tucks his chin against the soft, olive knit of his sweater, biting back a smile of his own as he nods just up ahead. “Good, because we’re here.”

He lets her carry on ahead a few more steps as he lingers behind, gauging her reaction. He can’t see her face at first, as she looks on, but when she turns to give him that same wide smile that makes his heart race—he tosses up another silent thanks to Rose Tico for being an actual genius. 

“The aquarium?”

Ben shrugs. “Is that okay?”

“I _love_ it.”

Ben feels something like a knot unwinding inside. In his head it had been the perfect solution, open but not _too_ open, something that would keep them talking… not to mention there is a small part of him that hopes the notable atmosphere of the aquarium will somehow mask the intoxicating aroma that is Rey Johnson; he’d latched onto the idea the moment Rose had thrown it out there. 

She closes the distance between them, her fingers winding through his to drag him along to the entrance—and Ben follows after her dazedly as he memorizes the weight and warmth of her tiny hand engulfed in his own. He thinks then he might have braved anywhere for a chance at this, anywhere at all, and he smiles quietly to himself as he lets her lead him. He doesn’t think it’s prudent to call this the best day of his life when it’s hardly just begun, he really doesn’t.

But oh, does he have a feeling.

* * *

Rey seems to have a penchant for touching him.

It’s a curl of her fingers around his bicep, a brush of her hand against his—and there are moments when Ben wonders if she is even consciously aware of it. 

He isn’t complaining per se, it’s just that with every instance he is thrown just a little further into his own personal brand of torture—wanting to pull her closer, wanting to get _away—_ terrified he will slip up and do something ridiculous that will have her never wanting to do this ever again. 

They’ve seen more fish than he can count, ones he can hardly remember the names of even though she takes the time to read _every_ little informative sign that is posted outside each exhibit, largely in part because her voice is just so damned _distracting._

She’s tugging him along now, pulling him towards an open area that is lined with a small crowd, everyone crowding around a wide tank that is low to the ground and filled with water. Rey turns back to him excitedly, eyes wide with delight. “Stingrays!”

Ben eyes the enclosure warily. “Where is the top?”

“The top?

He leans over the edge to watch the strange creatures gliding along the sandy bottom somewhere near his pelvis. “Why is there no roof on their… pen?”

Rey laughs as she tugs him closer, crouching down as he stands beside to watch her shove her hands in the water. “So we can touch them.”

“Oh.” Ben does his best not to make a face as he goes down on his haunches to watch. “That’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Ben Solo,” she chuckles. “Are you afraid of the stingrays?”

“I’m not _afraid,_ ” he grumbles, sparing another glance over the edge. “They just look… slimy.”

Rey rolls her eyes playfully, her fingers curling around his wrist as she gives it a tug. “Don’t worry, you big baby, I’ve got you.”

He’s opening his mouth to tell her he is absolutely _not_ afraid of the stingrays—but then her thumb slides just under his wrist, a slight pressure against the smaller gland there, and Ben shudders with the barely-suppressed pleasure of it as he allows her to guide his hand wherever she wants to. She casts another grin in his direction as she holds his hand just over the water, lowering her voice. “Don’t worry,” she says in faux-seriousness. “I won’t let it eat you.”

He’s gaping at her too hard to even pay attention to the fact that his hand is wet now. She guides it down under the water, lower still until it brushes along something slimy and slick that _moves_ beneath his fingers. He jerks instinctually, pulling another laugh from Rey, but he lets her hold his hand where it is as the tiny creature swims beneath.

“See?” She bumps her shoulder against his. “It won’t bite.”

It shouldn’t affect him so much, such a simple word falling from her mouth, but at the mention of _bite_ his mind whites out a little, heat creeping up his neck as his gaze drifts to her mouth. For a moment he forgets that there is a crowd of people around him, drawn by the little smile she gives him and the way her eyes seem just a little darker than before.

Her voice seems breathier than it was a moment ago, her throat bobbing with a swallow as her words come out soft. “Want to see the butterfly room?” He watches her eyes drift from his down to his mouth. “I can protect you from those too.”

Ben thinks he nods, because he gently pulls his hand from the water—but he can’t be sure. Again he lets her pull him along, following the padding of her feet as they move out of the open area towards a winding hall that leads towards a wide atrium lined with windows. There is an exit that leads out into an area that is fenced and netted with mesh, filled with greenery and lit up with the outside sun. 

“What’s a butterfly room, anyway?”

Rey chuckles under her breath as she pushes open the door. “It’s where they keep the sharks.”

“Ha, ha.”

She pulls his hand so that he’ll follow, the pair of them landing in the less-crowded area as Ben first notices this habitat’s occupants. Brightly colored butterflies flit about in the space, and Ben lingers near the entrance as he turns his head this way and that to watch them for a moment. Rey charges ahead, much less awestruck than he, squealing with delight as she pushes further into the greenery to see more.

Ben clods after her, half-worried he’ll take out one of the butterflies like some sort of Godzilla to these tiny Mothra children—making careful steps as he finds Rey amidst an array of flowered trees, the sun shining down on her as her hand is outstretched, a single butterfly resting on her finger as she smiles softly at it. She turns slowly to show him, looking pleased with herself, and Ben watches as another lands on her shoulder, on her hair—more following suit as her mouth parts in surprise. 

“I think they like me,” she says quietly, playfully. 

_I know the feeling,_ Ben thinks.

“Maybe you—” He swallows thickly. “Maybe you just smell good.”

Rey’s eyes widen a little, her mouth parting in a barely-there way as she looks up at him. “You think so?”

His voice sounds wrong, coming out in a rasp. “Probably.”

Rey’s lips curl slowly, nodding her head towards his shoulder where he looks down to find a bright Monarch perched there. 

“Maybe you smell good too,” she tells him. 

He can’t help the way his eyes find her mouth, the urge to feel it against his own overwhelming in that moment. He doesn’t realize he’s taking a step until he hears the door to the enclosure open somewhere behind him, knowing that they’re not alone anymore. 

Ben takes a slow, deep breath, trying to calm himself, ignoring the racing of his heart as he regards her carefully. “Where did you want to go next?”

Rey shrugs as a butterfly flutters away from her hair, still smiling. “Surprise me.”

This time when they go, Ben is the one to take her hand, beginning to think it was meant to be there.

* * *

This part of the aquarium is darker, lit only by a soft blue of water and filled with, much to Ben’s chagrin, more people packed together. The tunnel’s entrance hardly has room to squeeze into, but somehow she manages to maneuver them inside as she points up with an open mouth as a hammerhead swims over head.

“Look!”

Ben tilts his head up as it goes by, still holding her hand as a sawtooth follows after it. “I wonder what would happen if the glass just broke.”

“Wow, what an optimist.”

Ben shrugs. “Just a thought.”

She tugs at his shirt sleeve. “We should take a picture.”

“Really?” 

She laughs at his grimace, tucking herself into his side as she fishes her phone out of her pocket. “Oh, come on.” She peeks up at him as she opens the camera app. “I want to have a picture of us.”

“You do?”

She smiles at his look of surprise. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” he answers too quickly, already knowing he’s going to subtly get it from her and make it his wallpaper. “I do.”

“Then lean down,” she tells him. “You’re too tall.”

He does as she asks, ducking into the frame as she holds it out in front of them. She frowns at the way she can’t seem to _quite_ get them both in the lens, finally huffing as she holds out her phone to him in offering. “Here. You hold it. You arms are longer.” He does as she asks, but before he can hold it out she stops him. “Put your arm around me.”

He feels himself panic a little. “What?”

“So we can get close enough to take the picture.”

Sound logic. Sure. Makes sense. Doesn’t stop his heart from racing any less or his cock from jumping like a Pomeranian at the idea of his arm around her.

He lets it curl around her shoulder carefully, feeling her tiny body settle beneath as she presses herself closer against his side. Her arms surprise him when they wrap around his middle, his body tensing slightly as he nearly forgets what they’re trying to do. His hand is only shaking a _little_ as he holds the phone out, the two of them coming into view.

“You have to smile, Ben.”

He does his best, letting his lips curl at the corners as she beams brightly up at the camera, trying to rein in the surging warmth that floods his body under her embrace. He snaps the photo, pulling his hand back to return her phone but noticing she doesn’t immediately pull away. She turns her face to look up at him, arms still encircling his waist and expression just a little dazed now—and Ben thinks he knows the feeling. She smiles as she leans in, her face burrowing in the side of his sweater for a brief moment.

“Let’s go to the tropical exhibit next,” she murmurs into his shirt, so softly he might almost miss it.

He squeezes her arm because he thinks she won’t mind, stealing a deep draw of her scent as it wafts up from her hair, his eyes fluttering. “Okay.”

He could be imagining it, the way her nose brushes back and forth across his sweater, the way her chest rises and falls heavily with an inhale, as if she’s breathing him in, but the idea of it, of her finding him appealing in this way, sets about some primal reaction deep inside that has him wanting to bend down and taste the bend of her throat—to taste the honeyed sweetness of her on his tongue.

Somehow he holds it together until she finally peels herself from his side.

She’s leading him again, and he’s letting her, but there’s a humming current now that he feels almost vibrating under his skin. It passes between her hand and his, and Ben doesn’t feel so hesitant to tighten the grip of his hand around hers. She returns the squeeze, peeking over her shoulder with a shy grin as he follows after. 

He thinks in that moment he might follow her anywhere.

* * *

It’s quieter here.

They’d climbed down a flight of stairs to maneuver into this cave-like exhibit that is lined wall to wall with windows that peer out into different oceanic habitats—and Ben does his best to keep up with the excitable Rey who rushes to the largest of them to peer out into the open water. 

“Ben,” she whispers, as if she might frighten the occupants. “Ben, come look.”

He sidles up beside her, her face turning to meet his with a grin as she points through the glass, and he studies the giant sea turtles that float through the water, drifting lazily as they swim to and fro. 

“They’re huge,” he murmurs. He laughs a little under his breath. “They look so awkward. I know how they feel.”

“They’re adorable.”

He turns his head, finding she isn’t looking at the turtles now but up at him. He feels the brush of her fingers as they wind through his, and he thinks it would be easy to pull her against him, to mold her to his front and bury his fingers in her hair so that he might taste her mouth. 

Her eyes flick behind him as he hears the echoed steps of someone else approaching, and then she’s tugging to move them along deeper into the exhibit in search of something new to see. 

They settle around the corner in an empty hollow, the window behind offering a view of a perfect replica of a tropical reef that houses what looks to be thousands of colorful fish darting about through the water in a bright array. Rey presses both hands to the glass as she peers out at them, and Ben lingers behind for a moment to take in the sight of her silhouetted in the soft, blue hue that makes her seem to glow. 

She catches him staring when she peeks over her shoulder, casting a smile that is shy, quiet. She extends her hand behind her in offering, and Ben closes that distance to curl his own over hers as she pulls him in to see. 

For a moment they both just watch, some tension between them he can’t quite name, Ben’s heart pounding away in his chest as he realizes that for the first time today they are completely alone. He thinks if he were to do it, if he were to lean down and cup her jaw and pull her close—now would be the time.

He turns slowly, trying to gather his courage, surprised when Rey is already there, pushing closer and looking up at him with an expression that he thinks mirrors his own. 

“I’m really glad that we’re here,” she tells him quietly. “I’m glad that we came.”

Ben thinks he nods, eyes fixated on the soft swell of her lower lip, and for a moment he doesn’t quite realize that she’s pushing up on her toes, that she’s getting _closer._ He notices now that she’s breathing a little harder, that her shoulders shake just so—and she’s so _close_ now. 

“Ben,” she whispers a little raggedly. “Ben, can I—?”

He doesn’t need any more permission than that.

His arms come around her with a little more force than is probably necessary, molding her against his chest and pulling them both into a darker alcove at the corner of the tank window. He feels her hands pressed to his chest, her body pressed to _all_ of him—but he can hardly focus on any of it. 

Not when her _mouth_ is pressed against his like this.

He doesn’t mean to close his eyes, part of him wanting to see everything, to _memorize_ it—it’s just that she’s soft, _so soft,_ and warm, _too warm._ He can’t really control the way his body reacts. It’s slow at first, a sticky heat in his chest, but then her scent blooms around them like a burst of air that carries her sweetness. It clouds him and surrounds him, breaking him open and only worsened because she’s _opening_ for him now, and the _taste_ of her is there on her tongue. 

And it’s _incredible._

Ben is not practiced at this. It’s something he’s done, sure, awkwardly, experimentally, never enough to become very good—nothing to prepare him for the way her tongue feels as it swipes at his lower lip. As it pushes inside his mouth to slide against his. 

Ben makes a sound in the back of his throat he’s never made before, his hands tightening their grip as they wrap around her waist to keep her pressed tightly against him. There’s a building urgency in the way his mouth moves against hers, forgetting that they are not _completely_ alone, that someone could come at any moment—lost to the way she’s kissing him. The way he’s kissing _her._

He isn’t even aware he’s spun them until his hand meets the faux-rock of the alcove corner somewhere above her head, his hand that is still gripping her hip pulling her closer against him as his mouth turns hungrier in a way he can barely rein in. Rey’s hands curl over his shoulders before they tangle in his hair, tugging softly as he seeks more of her taste from her tongue. 

He almost forgets where they are entirely, buried in her scent and her sounds and just _her—_ and it doesn’t register, that he’s pawing at her like an animal. Not until his mouth begins to wander. Over her jaw and below her ear, led by instinct and the rushing of his blood that makes it a little hard to see. 

His lips press lightly at first, to the little place high on her throat that he’s dreamt about, and his eyes close as he lets his tongue dart out to swipe there, the flavor of her exploding on his tongue as his entire body shudders. Rey whimpers as he does it again, a little harder this time, his fingers so tight against her body that they may mark her, and some part of him deep inside _preens_ at the idea of it. 

He tastes her again and again and _again—_ until he is openly sucking at this part of her that yields the sweet taste of her. Until it coats his mouth and runs down his throat, and she tastes so _good,_ and she sounds so _needy,_ and he wants more. He wants _everything._ He wants—

His eyes fly open suddenly, everything crashing down on him all at once that he’s openly mauling her in a public place. That he’s wrapped around her like some sort of _animal—_ licking at her gland like a dog laps at water. That he’s _hard_ against her. _Here._ He prays she somehow hasn’t noticed.

It takes everything he has, to pull himself away, and he leans back with wide eyes to take in the state of her. Her eyes are dark, her hair mussed, and there is a red patch blooming just below her ear from the assault of his lips and tongue. Part of him purrs with pleasure at the sight, but a much more rational part is horrified.

“Rey,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry. I’m _so sorry.”_ He peels his hand from her side with great difficulty. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—” He tries to swallow but the lump in his throat won’t let him. “I’m _so sorry.”_

She’s still breathing heavily, but her brow knits in confusion. “You’re sorry?”

“I just—I wanted to kiss you so bad, and… _look_ what I did. I just—I’m _sorry.”_

“Hey. _Hey.”_ She closes the gap he’s made to press her hands to his chest, something that soothes the anxiety coursing through him, strangely enough. “Why are you sorry?”

His jaw works nervously. “You let me kiss you, and I—I acted like an _animal.”_ He blows out a shuddered breath. “I’m sorry. You just—” He can feel the tension building in his chest, a culmination of what he’s done and what he thinks she’ll do and how she _still smells so good._ “You just—the way you smell—” 

Her eyes widen a little. “The way I smell?”

He’s going time regret telling her this, he just knows he will. “Sometimes it’s hard to be _around_ you, Rey,” he admits raggedly. “With how good you smell.”

He watches her swallow, her lips pressing together for a moment. “You think I smell good?”

“Rey,” he laughs hoarsely. “You smell _incredible._ It’s like a _drug.”_

She stares up at him, and for a moment he thinks he’s ruined everything. That she’ll know now just how _hopeless_ he is. He opens his mouth to say more, to make it better or worse, he can’t be sure—but then she bites at her lower lip, eyes a little hooded and hands a little warmer against him. 

“It’s okay,” she tells him quietly. “It is. You—” She presses her lips together for a moment, looking somewhat shy. “You smell good too.”

His eyes go wide, a distant roaring in his ears that he has no control over. “I do?”

“ _Ben_ ,” she says with a choked laugh. “Sometimes…” She shakes her head, and there’s something in the action that he _wholly_ relates to. “Sometimes it’s hard to be around you too.”

He thinks he’s smiling, but he can’t be sure, his face feeling a little numb because how is it _actually_ possible that this is happening? 

“Then you…” He’s trying to remember words. “You feel it too?”

She nods with a small smile. “I feel it too.”

He’s leaning in to kiss her again, needing to _feel_ her—but her fingers snake between them to press against his mouth, stopping him.

“But we need to get out of here,” she chuckles softly. His brow furrows, and one corner of her mouth quirks as her eyebrow raises teasingly. “It's sort of public for you to ah… be in the state you’re in.”

He feels his face heat, having fully thought for a moment that he’d gotten away with it, mouth falling open dumbly. “I—I just—”

Her hands slide over his hips, fingers curling into the loops of his jeans as she smiles coyly, pulling him closer to hide the way his pants have begun to tent. “Don’t apologize. Let’s just get out of here.”

“I don’t want the day to be over yet,” he protests in a near-pout, feeling petulant. 

Rey’s grin widens. “We can go somewhere else. Somewhere… just the two of us?”

“Just… the two of us?”

She nods. “If you want.”

_He wants. He wants. He really wants._

“My…” He swallows thickly. “My parents are out of town.” His eyes go wide. “Not that I’m asking—not that I mean we should—I just—” He takes a deep breath. “We could… watch a movie?”

She’s beaming like he’s adorable, even if he feels _ridiculous—_ but she’s pressing up on her toes again, her arms winding around his neck as her lips brush against his. “A movie sounds great.”

Ben closes his eyes as he melts into it, arms going around her while he focuses on just the softness of her mouth, the rightness of her tiny frame molded to his larger one. 

She’s still smiling when she breaks away, hand finding his to hold it, and Ben lets her lead him for the dozenth time that day, minding it just as little as he did any of the times before. 

He thinks he was right earlier, when he thought this would be the best day of his life. 

He thinks he was more than right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now in the next chapter we will see them finally showing Pan's Labyrinth the proper respect and watching it fully as Rey gives scene by scene commentary and absolutely nothing else 🥰


	4. Stuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so loss of virginity always gives me fit and add ABO in... idk. I hope this makes sense. Lmao. I was going for EAGER but no prowess. ❤️  
>   
> This adorable gif board was made by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

Ben is less than confident.

Ben does not have a plan. 

In his head it had been a perfect idea, getting her back here all to himself. Then again, his head had been pretty preoccupied with the scent and taste of her, desperately scrambling for ways he might get _more_ of both. 

But now that she’s here, taking in the wide space of his living room and touching his things—Ben isn’t sure what to do with her at _all._ He knows what he’d _like_ to do, or rather, the most basic parts of him, but he’s frozen at the entryway, unsure of anything in this moment. 

She finds him there, rooted to the spot as she smiles at him from over her shoulder. “So what did you want to watch?”

Oh. _Oh._ Right. “Um.” His eyes dart nervously to the couch. “Whatever you want? We have every streaming app.”

Her eyes light up as she flounces over to the couch. “Let’s see.” She begins to surf through the streaming apps with interest, noticing after a moment that Ben is still stalling several feet away and patting the cushion beside her in invitation. “Come on,” she laughs. “I won’t bite.”

It takes everything Ben has not to react to this. Every single thing.

He moves to the couch slowly, settling down beside her and gripping his knees just a little tighter than necessary as he watches the screen shift with the swiftness of her scrolling. She settles over Netflix after a few moments, flicking down to the foreign category immediately in a way that is both predictable and endearing. He smiles as she concentrates on the choices, making an excited sound when she finds one she likes and turning to him. 

“Have you seen this?”

“No,” he laughs. “Definitely not.”

She clicks her tongue. “You’re missing out. It’s adorable.”

 _You’re adorable,_ he thinks lamely. 

She clicks it without even checking with him, the info screen for _Amélie_ appearing for only a second before Rey hits play. She settles back against the couch then, pulling Ben with her as she cuddles into his side while he sits stiffly in shock for a moment. 

He can’t understand anything on the screen, and what's worse, he can’t find the attention span to read the subtitles with the way she’s curled against him. It takes him a few moments to find a way to relax, even bravely putting his arm around her shoulders and letting his fingers curl at the edge of one as she nuzzles against his chest. 

It’s… nice. _Perfect,_ actually—and Ben can’t help the way he closes his eyes to breathe her in. Her hair is soft and tickles his nose, drenched in her scent that makes him fidget a little before he finally pulls himself away to try and focus on the television. They stay like they for a time—long enough for Ben to gain some inkling as to what's going on in the movie—but through it all there’s a restless energy under his skin. Something that comes from knowing what she tastes like. 

She’s so warm against him, her tiny body fitting like a piece of a puzzle he hadn’t been aware he’d been missing—and Ben wonders if it’s crazy, how right she feels. How he’s thinking of days beyond this one. Days so far down the line it makes no sense for him to be thinking of them. So he steals his lungfuls of her quietly, he does his best to follow the events on the screen, and he doesn’t absolutely _doesn’t_ think about the way her mouth felt against his, the way her flavor exploded against his tongue.

Mostly.

He doesn’t notice at first, the way she squirms too, but there is a moment where she shifts her entire body as if trying to get closer, and then her fingers brush over his abdomen back and forth to stroke the soft fabric of his sweater. This only worsens the growing tension in Ben’s body, and it is only when he thinks he’s about to burst that Rey final tilts up her head, her lips pressed together and her eyes just a little darker than her usual bright hazel. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He chews a little on the inside of his lip, distracted by the lazy pattern she’s drawing on his abdomen with the tips of her fingers. “Sure.”

“What do I… smell like?” 

Ben feels every muscle in his body draw up tight, having not even been the _slightest_ bit prepared for such a question. “What do you… smell like?”

“You said I smelled good,” she clarifies quietly. “It’s hard to really tell with yourself.” She averts her gaze to settle on his chest as she smoothes her palm across his torso. “I guess I’m curious.”

Ben tries to draw in a deep breath without seeming like he’s completely losing it, something that he most certainly _is—_ trying to formulate some sort of coherent answer that won’t make him sound like some sort of pervert. “It’s… sweet.”

Her brow furrows. “Sweet?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “It reminds me of honeysuckle.”

She’s staring up at him now, her mouth parted slightly. “Honeysuckle?”

“I always wondered…” He swallows thickly, feeling his face heat.

“Tell me,” she urges, angling her body to face him better. “What did you wonder?”

His voice is quiet now, rough and low. “I wondered if that’s what you’d taste like.”

He doesn’t miss the way she shivers a little, just like he doesn’t miss the way her throat bobs heavily. “Did I?”

He thinks he’s gaping at her. “Did you?”

“Did I taste like that.” 

Ben’s mind isn’t quite working right, but he manages to nod dazedly as she stares back at his mouth pointedly. 

“Would you…” She presses her lips together, rolling them in thought before her eyes flick up to meet his. “Would you like to know what you smell like?”

“What I smell like?”

She nods. “It’s… distracting.”

“It is?”

“Mhm.” She sits up a little straighter, fingers curling around his bicep to touch him there. “It’s like… chocolate, but darker. Like some sort of insanely expensive dark chocolate.” She runs one fingertip down the entire length of his upper arm, watching as it goes. “But there’s something sort of sweet too. Tart, even. Some kind of fruit I can’t put my finger on. I’ve always wondered…”

Ben’s throat feels too dry, his tongue too thick. “What did you wonder?”

She surprises him by pushing up to her knees, shocking him further when she swings one leg to straddle his lap, pressing her hands flat to the front of his chest. She smoothes both up the front of his torso, fingers teasing at the ends of his hair brushing along his nape. The fabric of her denim skirt is hitched around her thighs now, and as much as Ben wants to be good and not look, it’s _impossible_ not to notice the soft expanse of skin.

She’s smiling a little, but there is something in it that he recognizes. Something hungry. She searches his face for permission, he thinks, but he’s too distracted with the way she’s leaning in. He can feel the warmth of her breath puff against his cheek when she nears, and then there is a soft brush of her lips there, his eyes fluttering closed when she trails them further along his jaw, pressing a heavy kiss just below that makes his breath catch, lingering there for a moment as if she is afraid to go further. Ben lets his hands glide carefully over her hips, fingers curling at her waist in silent urging.

His mouth falls open when he first feels the warm press of her tongue at the gland there, a heavy slide across his skin as she makes some whimpered sound that he feels reverberating down to his toes. She closes her lips, offering none of the aggression he’d shown her in the aquarium but instead giving something soft and sweet, something like _her,_ instead. She hums contently as she kisses him sweetly there, and Ben draws in a labored breath as his eyes roll back in his head. 

She’s breathing hard when she pulls away, the warmth of her breath huffing against his throat as she hovers near it. “Raspberries,” she says shakily. “It’s raspberries.”

He’s hard again, _of course he is—_ but he doesn’t try to hide it this time. Why would he, when she’s so close? When she’s _right there?_ Her thighs tense around him, knees pressing into either side of his hips, and she leans back to look at him, eyes so _dark_ now. 

She bites her lip, studying his face. “Do you…” She shifts in his lap. “Do you want to show me the rest of the house?”

He blinks up at her dazedly. “The rest of the house?”

“Ben.” One corner of her mouth lifts. “Do you want to show me your room?”

There’s a rumble in his chest he hadn’t even been aware he could make, his body shuddering a little at the implication. “You want… to see my room?”

“Unless that’s—” Her brow knits. “Oh, God. Is that too forward? I didn’t mean—”

“No. _No.”_ He pulls her closer without meaning to, inadvertently bringing her closer to the stretched denim over his cock as he hisses under his breath. “That is—It’s just—” He blows out an unsteady breath. “I’ve never—”

She shushes him with a kiss, his anxiety ebbing with the warm press of her lips. “Hey, it’s okay. Me either.”

His hand curves around to settle against her spine. “Are you sure that—” His nostrils flare with an inhale. “Are you sure that you want to—with me—”

Her mouth curves against his. “I’m sure.” Her hands go around to find his, her feet sliding to the floor as she pulls him up with her. She winds her fingers through his as she stands, grinning down at him shyly. “Show me your room.”

Ben rises to his feet on slightly shaky legs, waiting for the moment when she tells him it’s a joke. That she doesn’t mean it. 

But her smile is steady, her grip tight—and she tucks herself into his side as he leads her away from the couch towards the stairs. 

He _really_ hopes his room is clean.

* * *

There is something about seeing her here, in his space—something that makes him anxious. She moves about his room curiously—trailing her fingers over his desk, studying the science fair trophy on his shelf, grinning at his family photos—making a lap around the space before she settles in front of his bed to sit at the edge. She pats the mattress sweetly, and Ben lumbers forward as if drawn by a string, surreptitiously kicking a discarded pair of pants under his bed as he takes a seat beside her.

“You seem nervous,” she offers.

He huffs out a laugh. “I _am_ nervous.”

“We don’t have to…” Her hand curls over his knee in what he thinks is supposed to be soothing, but it only makes him more tense. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

_Pressured?_

He turns inward until he can put his hands on her shoulders. “That’s not it. It’s _not._ I’m just—I don’t—” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I.” She grins up at him. “We can figure it out. If you want.”

 _God, he wants. He_ so _wants._

Her hand slides higher, resting against his thigh that goes tight beneath her touch, another curling to fist his shirt as she pulls him closer. He watches as her mouth nears, only closing his eyes when he feels the warm press of it. Her hands are wandering as she kisses him sweetly, but he’s almost too afraid to do the same, his own resting politely at her shoulders. 

“You can touch me, Ben,” she murmurs. “If you want.”

He doesn’t tell her there’s nothing he wants more than that. 

They settle at her hips first, memorizing the soft swell under his hands, but then he lets them glide higher—over her ribs to let them encircle her, nearly able to hold her entire torso in his hands. He can feel the way her lungs expand beneath his palms, catching her exhale with his own mouth, effectively _breathing_ her in. There’s a burst of her scent that lingers in the air, and Ben growls low in his throat when he feels her fingers slide under his sweater to graze his belly. 

He stops breathing altogether, when they curl there to tug, only tensing for a moment before he lets his arms go slack so that she can pull it up and over his head. For a moment she studies him, running her hands over his chest with her lip trapped between her teeth, eyes widening as her fingers trace down his sternum and lower to trace the lines of his abdomen. 

“Sometimes I thought I was crazy,” she says huskily. “The way I thought about you so much.”

He releases a shaky breath when her fingers graze the hem of his jeans. “You thought about me?”

“ _All the time,”_ she admits breathily. “Sometimes I felt like I was going insane. So afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“I do,” he tells her quickly. “Feel the same. I thought about you all the time.”

She smiles sweetly. “I’ve never really felt this way. Do you think…” She bites at her lip. “Do you think it’s just because of the way we… appeal to each other? Do you think we just can’t help it?”

Ben’s brow furrows as he thinks about her eyes and her smiles and the quiet way she teases him and: “No,” he tells her determinedly. “I don’t think it’s just that.” He leans in now, feeling just a little bolder, pulling her against him as he kisses at her throat. “But I won’t pretend that you don’t smell… _incredible.”_

Her soft laugh morphs into a breathy moan that Ben stores away in his memory for safe keeping, and her fingers grip at his ribs as she pulls at him, her back meeting his mattress as he draws up one knee to crawl up and over her. His hands are tentative at her waist as he toys with her shirt that is still mostly-tucked into her skirt, leaning back to look at her as she nods in silent permission. His fingers shake a little as he pulls the soft cotton from her skirt, seeing a peek of tanned skin above her navel that moves with every breath.

He’s staring at the large silver button of her skirt intently as if it’s an intricate puzzle box, and for all intents and purposes—it is. Her hands slide over his as she gently aids him with his task, popping open the button and tugging the denim apart until the little dip of her bellybutton is bared to his sight, a flash of pink cotton just below that makes his mouth dry.

It’s hardly a conscious thing, the way he dips to press his lips below her navel, feeling the way her skin trembles under his mouth, tasting the sweetness of her skin as he murmurs against it. “Can I—? I want to—Is it okay if I—”

Rey seems to get his garbled meaning, shoving at her skirt until it bunches down her thighs, giving him the boost of confidence he needs to pull it the rest of the way down her legs and toss it aside. 

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” he whispers reverently.

Her legs are long and toned and tanned and _so soft—_ and for a moment he can only run his hands over them, marveling at the way she tenses, at the softness there that some part of him wants to trace with his tongue. He settles his palm over her belly, enjoying the way the width of it covers almost every part of her here and letting his other hand gently urge her thighs apart as instinct begins to take over. 

He can _smell_ her.

Not the airy sweetness of her he’s becoming used to, but something heady, something _sticky_ and _wet._ It drifts up from between her legs, drawing his focus to the damp patch at the center of her that is _so wet_ already. His hindbrain growls with pleasure because _slick this is slick Omega is slick for him—_ and he feels his eye twitch as his mind goes hazy, shakily reaching between her legs to let a knuckle brush there. 

Rey whimpers when he applies pressure, and he’s not even entirely sure what he’s done, only knowing that her slick is now on his skin. He stares for a handful of seconds, mouth open and mind dizzy, and he’s hardly even aware of what he’s doing when he brings it to his mouth, licking there as the flavor of her coats his tongue. If the taste of her skin is sweet—this is _intoxicating._

He’s lowering before he can help it, driven by urges and instinct and things he’s never really tapped into—pressing his nose to the damp fabric between her legs to breathe in more of her straight from the source.

“ _Ben.”_

He can’t really hear her, but he can feel her fingers in his hair as he rubs his nose back and forth across her underwear. His heart pounds in his ears as he takes in deep lungfuls of her scent, and something inside chants for _more more more_ even as he doesn’t quite understand what sort of _more_ his brain even wants him to go for. 

His cock is hard against the mattress, tenting his jeans as he rubs mindlessly against the sheets to seek more friction, and still something inside begs for _more._ More than this. 

His tongue is light, at first, not quite sure what he’s doing but knowing there’s _more—_ more to take, more to _taste—_ and he lets it rest against the slick patch of fabric that worsens by the second, holding it there flat as he closes his eyes. The taste of her is _hot, so hot—_ an explosion of sweetness that trickles down his throat and makes his eyes roll back and body shake. He’s licking now—aimlessly, _heavily—_ no purpose in mind other than to drink in every little bit of her that he can. 

His teeth catch the now-sodden edge of her underwear, rooting until it gives way to slick flesh beneath that slides against his lips. He licks here too—hungry swipes of his tongue that have no prowess and will surely leave him embarrassed when he recalls it the next day. 

It is only when he feels a clawing of her nails at his shoulders that he is pulled back into reality, lifting his head as if coming out of a trance as he blinks up at her flushed face, trying to remember where he is. The look on Rey’s face only worsens his frantic state—hungry and _desperate_ and _everything he feels._

“ _Alpha.”_

It’s an all-over shiver, this one word. It touches something inside he’s never used before, something he’s never _needed_ before—but he thinks he needs it now. He thinks maybe they _both_ do. 

She whimpers when he crawls over her, tilting his hips to pin them to hers as he grinds against her without thought. “Rey. _Rey.”_ He grits his teeth, ducking his head to mouth at the pink lace that covers her breasts. “I don’t—tell me what to—it _burns.”_

She’s tugging at his jeans, trying to pull them open and making a frustrated sound when they don’t budge. “Off. Get these _off._ ”

It’s hard—removing his jeans when he refuses to stop tasting her skin—but somehow he feels cool air meet his bare skin, soothing the burn there. But relief is short-lived, with the way his heated body slides against hers, making a pained sound in his chest as she tugs the lacy scrap up and over her head to leave her chest bare. 

His mind is racing with the frenetic energy that lives inside him—a product of her scent and her taste and the _need_ of this that comes from wanting her for so long—but distantly he appreciates how _pretty_ she is spread out beneath him. Her skin is bright, her nipples soft and pink, and lower—when she rolls her underwear away, when he _helps_ her—she’s so _slick_ between her legs that he feels like he might actually be _losing his mind._

He’s kissing her when she tugs at his underwear, when he kicks out of them impatiently—too rough, all tongue and teeth—but her fingers are in his hair and her sounds are in his ears, and it’s good, _so good._

“Please, Alpha,” she pleads breathily in a voice that is barely her own. “ _Please.”_

He’s nodding against her throat now, promising something, _anything_ that she asks without fully understanding what that is. Does she want him like this? Does she want his knot?

_His knot oh god his knot he could knot her he could have her he could—_

His body trembles with the idea of it, but somewhere in the back of his mind the rational him speaks up even as his hindbrain tries to beat it into submission.

“ _Rey.”_ He’s distracted by the way she’s nuzzling at the gland below his ear. “We need—I need a—”

She makes a sound almost like a growl, her knees pressing around his hips as his cock slots against her slicked center, drawing a moan from him. “Shot. _Shot._ It’s good. Please, Alpha. _Please.”_

She tilts her pelvis until he can feel her slick against his cock and his thighs and everywhere else she touches, and he mouths at her jaw as he rolls his hips against her. With every motion he can feel the way he slides through the slick crease of her, and he bares his teeth when an accidental catch at her entrance pulls a sharp growl from his chest. 

It’s like a moment of clarity in the hazy fog that has descended over his brain, one that makes him recognize that they’ve both fallen into some rut-like state, and for a moment his anxiety breaks through the hormones to make him question. 

“Rey,” he manages through gritted teeth. “You’re sure that you—” He shudders a little when she rolls her hips so that the head of his cock _just_ rests inside. “I wouldn’t want to—”

She leans up to cover his face in her hands, holding his jaw as she pulls him in for a kiss. He feels her tongue at his lower lip, her fingers sliding into his hair—and he forgets a little what he’d been worried about as the hazy heat climbs higher. 

“Want you, Alpha,” she murmurs. “ _Ben.”_

And that’s all his instincts need, it seems, to take back over, his eyes closing as he presses forward an inch, and then another—sheathing himself inside her slowly as his mouth goes slack and his blood roars and she’s _slick so slick._ There’s a pinch, a small bit of resistance, and something in Ben that is _delighted_ that _Omega is his all his no one else’s_ wars with a more rational worry to have hurt her when he surges through. 

But her fingers tangle at his hair, her lips trail at his throat, and her tongue is hot and wet as it passes over the scent gland beneath his ear—and Ben lets rational thoughts die as he buries himself deep inside her. He presses his nose to her throat to breathe her in, filling his lungs with her and hardly moving as he lets her warmth and her slick coat him, feeling the way already there is a swelling at the base that promises to _knot her knot Omega mine mine mine._

He thinks if he were to just remain here inside her it would pull him into orgasm, but the scraps of Ben that aren’t lost to his baser instincts knows there is more to be had. More to feel, more to _take._

One long draw outwards sounds warning bells in his head, feeling the end building already even with how they’ve barely just begun. She’s too slick, too _hot—_ he knows this won’t last anywhere near as long as he wants. 

“Too wet,” he grunts. “Can’t—I won’t—”

Rey’s hand is between them before he can even push back inside, working herself in a way the coherent part of him desperately wishes he could watch—but there’s no time for it now. He buries his face in her throat, licking there to steal her taste, distantly worried about crushing her as he lets his Alpha instincts guide him. His consciousness is reduced to a pattern of _in and out and in and out—_ his eyes rolling back because she’s _sweet so sweet_ on his tongue. 

He feels it with a withdraw, that humming current along his cock that feels like a pressure nearly to the point of bursting, and he holds completely still with his cockhead just inside her as he tries desperately to collect himself. He knows if he moves he’ll come, _feels_ it in every part of himself—but he can hear the way Rey’s breathing has grown more restless, feels the way her body is tensing, the way her hand works _faster._

His lips mouth at her throat restlessly, eyes closed and mouth open as she shivers beneath him. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, led by something he doesn’t quite understand yet—but it’s blinding, when he finds it. She’s pulsing here, so saturated with her scent that it’s like a fount of _Rey—_ and for a moment he just lets his lips rest there, against the largest of her glands, feeling the way the heated flesh quivers against his mouth. 

He is conscious enough to know he won’t take more than this, not today, not now—but as he lets his tongue flatten there, her back bowing and her body beginning to tremble, he thinks of a moment in some distant future, one where he might press his teeth here. As he feels her insides tremble with an orgasm she gave herself, one _he_ wants to learn how to give her—Ben thinks about a day beyond this one where he might press his nose here and scent them _both_. 

He’s coming before he can really get all the way back inside her, her cunt slicker and warmer and spasming around him in a way that pushes him far over the edge. He’s barely sheathed inside when he feels his knot swelling to a point that makes it hard to move, and Ben closes his eyes as it takes over—pulsing to fill her up as his hindbrain quiets and his instincts die down, having gained what they were after.

There’s nothing really like it, the feeling of being locked inside her. He thinks if he were pressed to describe it he would mention the _heat_ mostly—a slick warmth that envelops him wholly and makes him feel just that. _Whole._ He can feel the way her muscles contract inside, a flutter of her inner walls that grip and _squeeze_ around the thickest parts of him, and his entire body shudders with how overwhelmingly _perfect_ it is. 

He’s sweating a little when he gains control of all his senses, and his first thought is how heavy he must be, draped over her. He pushes up on his hands, something he _immediately_ regrets because this causes a tug where they’re joined that sets forth a dizzying pleasure and a gush of his cum that makes him see stars—and he winces a little now as he props himself up to look at her.

“Erm, Rey?”

She blinks up at him with a dazed expression. “Yeah?”

“I’m stuck.”

She grins, shifting her body slightly and tugging at his knot that is locked inside her. “We knew this would happen.”

“I know but, _fuck—_ reading about it in health class is one thing. _This_ is— _fuck,_ you smell so good.” He buries his head in her hair, his nose finding the soft skin of her throat as it skirts over the gland there. “You smell like—” He takes a deep inhale from her. “It’s _you,_ but it’s—” He lets his tongue dart out to taste her, and he shivers all over when her flavor explodes on his tongue. “The way you taste, it’s—”

“Us,” she breathes, fingers carding through his hair.

“Yes,” he breathes, something inside purring from the revelation. “Us.” He nuzzles against her throat reverently. “Was it good? Did I do okay?”

Rey’s hands smooth over his back, humming contently. “Yes. You did amazing.”

“Are you okay? Did I…” He winces, remembering how brutish he’d been beyond his control. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’ll be a little sore,” she admits. She sees the way his face falls, and she leans to press a kiss to his cheek. “But it's a good sore. I’m _happy,_ Alpha.”

Another shiver passes through him. No one has ever addressed him as _Alpha_ in all his eighteen years—never like _that,_ at least. He thinks he could get used to it. He presses a kiss to her gland. “I’m glad it was you. I’m glad you were my first.”

She pushes at his body to force him to look at her, brushing a kiss to his mouth. “So am I,” she murmurs, shifting in a way that _again_ rolls her body to tug on his knot. He feels the way it pulses inside her, and his cock twitches as a fresh torrent of warmth spurts deep inside.

 _“Fuck._ How long does this last?”

Rey shrugs, nuzzling against him. “The books all say no more than a half hour at most.”

He pulls her a little tighter, lingering instinct refusing to let any part of her escape his touch. “When it’s over…” He bites at his lip as his nerves creep back in, the earlier confidence of a part of him he’s yet to fully control dissipating in the aftermath. “Could we maybe do it again?”

She gives him a lazy smile. “Again?”

“I want you to show me…” He trails off, feeling a blush creep up his neck as he lowers his voice. “I want to know how to make you feel good too.”

“I don’t know,” she teases. “I feel pretty good right now…” She bites her lip, peeking up at him from where she’s crushed against his chest. “But anything you want, _Alpha.”_

 _Fuck_ he likes that. He likes that a lot. He never understood the supposed bond between an Alpha and Omega—had heard of it in school just like everyone else, but could never really _grasp_ it. Not until now. With Rey warm and sated against his chest, he knows he would do anything to please her, to make her happy— to _protect_ her. 

He presses a kiss to her hair. “I want”—he hesitates a moment, feeling a little silly—“ _you,_ Omega.” Her answering smile gives him more confidence, and he lowers to let his lips brush against hers. “Just you.”

“You know,” she grins. “There’s nothing stopping me from showing you a few things right now…”

Ben’s eyes widen as she finds his hand, curling her fingers around it to lead it between their bodies. “Now?”

“Unless you have somewhere to be?”

He laughs then at her teasing, knowing he couldn’t go anywhere even if he wanted to, which he definitely doesn’t. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here,” he says quietly. 

“Good.” Her lips find his throat to rest lightly against his gland, making him shiver. “Neither do I.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why this beautiful creature wants to be here with him—but he refuses to question it, too grateful that she _does_. That she _wants_ him. 

Best day ever, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re so fluffy and cute and I love these horny babies 💕


	5. One Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPIEST OF HAPPY BIRTHDAYS TO MY LOVE, JEN! 
> 
> I hope this was everything you wanted, because you’re everything I want. *waggles eyebrows*  
> 😘
> 
> There was more AMAZING ART that was gifted to me between the last couple of chapters by [ theriseofswolo](https://twitter.com/theriseofswolo), and I will NEVER be over the talent of this artist. They have my whole heart. All of it. Every bit.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> Here is a soft little peek into their near future, with the promise of many happy days for them ahead. 💕  
>   
> Adorable board by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

“Stop tugging at your tie.”

Ben’s hand stills on its path to said accessory, frowning as he pulls it away to shove it in his suit pocket instead. “I look like a penguin.”

Rey’s lips curl as she loops her arm through his, leaning her head against him. “But a handsome penguin.”

His eyes sweep down the front of her clinging blue dress, thinking that it’s one of the very few reasons that make wearing this terrible suit worth it. 

Hux interrupts his thought process as he stumbles over from the edge of the dance floor then, face red with exertion and grinning as he holds Rose close with one arm. “What are you guys doing in the corner? Come dance.”

“I’m—” Ben’s eyes dart nervously to Rey tucked beside him and then back to his friend, knowing this moment was inevitable from the moment they walked inside and yet still not prepared. “You know I can’t fucking dance.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Sure you can. Just move those giant feet of yours.” He pulls at Ben’s arm, urging him to stand as Rose does the same for Rey. “It’s prom, you loser. You gotta shake it a little.”

Ben is grimacing at the idea of _shaking_ it—but a glance over at Rey shows that she is more than excited about this development, and that makes it a little more tolerable. Her fingers wind through his even as Hux tugs him along, and then suddenly Ben finds himself out in the middle of a crowd, head turning nervously in every direction as he thinks about people watching. Hux claps him on the shoulder as he launches into some sort of terrible robot maneuver, pacing around his giggling girlfriend—but Rey’s hands on his face bring his attention back to her. 

“Just look at me, okay?”

She finds his hands to bring them to her waist, and then she’s moving—hips swaying in a way that makes it impossible to do anything else but what she asks. Just like most days of his life now, he can’t really do _anything_ but look at her. She’s smiling as she moves in time with the music, and Ben finds himself mirroring her movements as best as he can as she urges him to dance with her, forgetting his giant feet for a moment as he soaks in her happiness. 

He gets a bit distracted, admittedly, when she gives him her back to press against his front—moving in a way that gives him _less_ than appropriate thoughts for such a crowded event—but he just presses his hands a little tighter at her waist and does his best to follow her lead. 

And when the song changes, pace slowing to something softer, _sweeter_ —Ben lets her lead him in this too, watching her turn to loop her arms around his neck as she pulls him in close. 

“See?” She lays her head on his chest as they sway to a slower beat. “Prom isn’t so bad.”

His hands slide minutely over the silk at her hips. “I guess so.”

“And soon we’ll be graduated, and then we have the entire _summer_ to relax before we ship off to Chandrila.”

He still gets a little giddy thinking about being on the same campus as Rey. Hell, the same _dorm_ building. His brain never seems to know quite what to do with this information other than hum contently. It’s been months since that day at the aquarium—and nothing has changed for Ben except knowing more about her. Except finding more reasons as to why he’s hopelessly _gone_ for her.

At least now it seems she’s in a similar state, for reasons Ben doesn’t think he’ll ever understand.

Rose and Hux pass close by—giving them a hip bump before they retreat into their own little world that involves a little more PDA than Ben thinks is appropriate for a school event. Not that he isn’t jealous. There isn’t really any site with Rey he doesn’t want to indulge in a little more PDA than is appropriate—but he just settles his hand at her lower back, letting her move them in time with the soft music that plays overhead.

“Thank you for bringing me,” she tells him, turning up her face to give him a smile. “I know you hate these things.”

He doesn’t tell her there’s absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do to make her smile like this; he thinks at this point it doesn’t need to be said. 

“I’m learning very quickly not to pass up opportunities to see you in a dress.”

Her grin widens. “Are you being a little gross, Ben Solo?”

“Maybe.” He gives a shrug. “I blame the dress.”

“And you used to be so sweet,” she sighs. 

He frowns. “I’m still sweet… aren’t I?”

“Yes,” she laughs, her fingers brushing at his nape to tease the hair that rests there. “You are.”

Ben feels a thrumming satisfaction inside for having pleased her, and he ducks his head to press his nose to her throat under the guise of pulling her closer. “You smell so good.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.”

He presses his mouth to her skin, liking the way she shivers as his lips ghost down her neck to settle at the base. He kisses there lightly, the intimate act hidden by the curtain of her hair even as the largest of her gland offers warmth against his mouth. 

She’s biting her lip when he pulls away, and he smiles before he pulls her against him, tucking her head under his chin as he enjoys the slow pace of their dance and the warmth of her body. The music lulls around them, the lights low and soft and making it easy to forget that they aren’t alone here. That they aren’t the only two people in the world.

His hand drifts up her spine, his fingers curling over her shoulder and pressing into the soft skin that is now a little warmer than it should be—drawing a circle around her mating gland beneath her hair as she shudders lightly. He thinks about this place a lot—something he knows might be largely attributed to his hormones, but he thinks there is more to it than that as well. He thinks a lot of it is just her. 

“I’m going to,” he murmurs into her hair, so low she might almost miss it with the music. “One day.”

He can almost feel her smile against his white button-down where her cheeks rest, her arms around him going tighter, her voice just as soft, just as quiet, and he _knows_ she gets his meaning. “I’m going to let you.” 

It’s as good of a promise as he needs, knowing he won’t feel any different tomorrow, or the next day, or a thousand days after that one. Centuries could pass as far as Ben is concerned, and he still thinks he would feel no different than he does right now, like he does with her.

He’s still letting her lead him, something he has found he will never mind—willing to follow wherever she goes. Anywhere at all. He’s had a good number of best days since he met her, but Ben knows that isn’t even the best part of it all. 

The best part is the ones still to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> colourisgreen also made this cute happy birthday gif of our favorite boy for Jen! 😍
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed along! I loved these soft babies. 💕

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!  
> 


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